There is a good side to being overwhelmed even though it almost always has a negative connotation in our culture. In spite of my own reactions, I believe we ought to embrace being overwhelmed. See, in my own life, I mostly try and avoid this feeling and for many different reasons. In my modern world I have complete control over pretty much everything and this feeling of “being overwhelmed” is unnerving. I try and avoid it or dominate it, really whatever I can do to undo it. But I think I’m missing out on something important because of this. Continue reading
The first day I moved to Manchester (almost two months ago now!) I walked quite a bit around the city centre. I was halfway trying to just stay awake, halfway powered by the adrenaline of having just moved to a new continent. I wanted to take in as much as I could. Plus it was a nice day without rain and I knew I had to take advantage of that.
I was struck that day, as I have often been since, of my own insignificance. I passed hundreds, probably thousands, of people. Buses full of people. Cars struggling through the city traffic. People on the street hurrying to their next destination. All of these people could care less about me. I’m nothing important, especially to them. As the taller buildings in the centre loomed overhead I realised in a new way how insignificant I truly am. Continue reading
Americans have not always had the easiest of times moving to the United Kingdom. One would think the transatlantic move would actually be somewhat of an easy transition, given the similarity between the two cultures. It surprised me to hear that the average stay of an American in the United Kingdom, in any type of industry, was about two years. That’s hardly any time at all. Why is this the case?
Let me start right from the top and say this post is not a result from a large scale survey or replicable experimental model. It comes from my conversations with Brits who have experienced Americans in their culture, Americans who have lived there and moved and Americans who have been able to reside there long term. Basically, anecdotal evidence. So this really is just my perspective but I’ve had quite a few conversations with people from the above three categories (due to an obsession to learn as much as possible from them), so hopefully this information is somewhat on track. Either way, here’s what I have found. Continue reading
My last American Thanksgiving was a normal Thanksgiving. There wasn’t any kind of grand revelation or overflow of emotion. It was a typical holiday well spent.
These normal rhythms of familial celebrations will soon be disrupted, though. Next year, living in a new country with a new child surrounded by all sorts of new people, we will most definitely feel the loss of normality. I have fond memories of driving to our grandparents’ house as a child, seeing aunts, uncles and cousins, enjoying each other (as well as annoying each other). Our child won’t have those kind of memories, and there’s a type of loss in that. And especially the longer we stay in England, which is indefinite for now, something like Thanksgiving will be more foreign to our British child. Continue reading
This is the third post in a series about how we Christians twist Christianity towards ourselves.
Evangelism is supposed to be about loving someone different than you. A Christian ought to be so overjoyed at being a child of God, now possessing hope that will not disappoint, and receiving the gift of understanding God’s words that we want others who aren’t in the same situation as us yet to experience the kind of love we have. What evangelism can often be about is a Christian making himself feel better because some of his shame is staved off during the time he blabbered on about how he doesn’t approve of gay marriage. That can come across as not loving (because it is). When evangelism becomes a way to soothe ourselves we’ve created a spiritual selfie. Our working definition for “spiritual selfie” is taking something that was created to be other/Other focused and turning it inward for our own purposes. Continue reading
This is the second post in a series about how we Christians twist Christianity towards ourselves.
If you grew up in the western world, you are more inclined to think the world is about you as an individual, probably more so than any other culture on Earth thus far. Our rabid individualism knows no bounds and our disease hungers to increase its territory. When someone living in this milieu becomes a Christian and now submits to how the Bible teaches us to live, we should expect some problems with confronting our formerly self-obsessed selves. This is hard, though, because it’s like describing water to a fish. It’s all around us and has become invisible. Continue reading
This is the first post in a series about how we Christians twist Christianity towards ourselves.
The selfie. Ubiquitous on social media, subject of many a diatribe, and a common practice of others. Previously referred to as a “self-portrait” by art history for hundreds of years, we’ve decided two syllables are better than three. But more than just shortening the word, the selfie is allowed to be low-brow. After all, “self-portrait” sounds a bit intimidating and time consuming.
For the selfie, one turns an outward camera inward. And most cameras (some people call them “phones” but let’s just call it what they are) undo the problematic flipping-the-camera-around-thing by including a front facing camera, assuring the artist of the best possible shot. Continue reading
For years, I liked the idea of getting a tattoo, but not knowing exactly what I would want on my body for the rest of my life, it stayed in the idea phase for a while. I found it fascinating to put something on you so important that you’d want it there forever. But my idea phase ended when I landed on something specific in my mind. Then about a year ago, I met a friend who was a tattoo artist and now owns his own shop. I talked to him about this idea, and eventually it was go time. I made a consultation appointment. I wanted the artists Georges Rouault and Jeremy Lewis to collaborate, using my arm as the canvas. Continue reading